Tick Tock Goes the Clock
by TheLovelyJudy
Summary: A Collection of one-shots focusing on the psychopathology of Alexander Delarge. Some funny, Some tragic, some frightening, and some (hopefully)thought provoking. Please Read and Review. Dedicated to DemonBarber14 :) Rated T-M
1. Cinnamon

**AN: First of all, thank you for opening this up. I hope you enjoy these one-shots as much as I enjoy writing them, I have almost sixteen or more ideas written in my notebook and I'm excited to bring them too life. I accept and appreciate constructive criticism; so long as it's not abusive. I would put "Paradox" and "She was Never Mine to Hold" but I don't want to lose my wonderful reviews on those pieces. So from now on all of my one-shots will be placed into this story, I hope you like these stories and I hope you share your thoughts with me.**

**Love, Corina.**

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**Cinnamon**

Lonely mother, gazing out of her window

Staring at a son, that she just can't touch

If at any time he's in a jam, she'll be by his side

But he doesn't realize, he hurts her so much

_**-TLC; Waterfalls**_

.

.

.

"Hello, love. How're you feeling?"

"What makes you think…you're welcome here?"

The words sting deeply and her eyes fill with tears, she swallows thickly and removes her hand from his arm.

"I know…I know that you're angry, Alex…I'm so sorry. You don't have to say anything to me, son. I wish you would but…I understand"

The machines are whispering in the background and she can't look him in the eye, not yet. For there is nothing but hatred in them, and it's breaking her into tiny little pieces. She rolls up a chair to sit beside him, and dares to put her hand on his. Stroking the soft skin gently, the way she used to when he got a boo-boo and came crying to her.

"Before I married your dad…I wanted to be a doctor, of course…I was a woman so that made it uh-that made a lot harder to achieve that goal, but I was determined. I studied for hours and hours, I took all the necessary classes; I even memorized Latin and Greek roots so that Anatomy terms would come easy to me. When I was twenty, I read about this study…from America. Um…this doctor proposed an idea that mothers could identify their own baby simply by his or her scent. They…They had mothers of new borns participate in this study…"

Alex doesn't say anything, and she takes it as permission to continue.

"Over thirty mothers did it, they'd put a blindfold over her eyes and they would bring five babies into the room. One at a time, a baby was placed into the mother's arms. Every single time, the mother was successfully able to identify her child, the most it took for her to tell if the baby was hers or not was two minutes. For some reason, I didn't believe it. I thought it was completely ridiculous or that-at least-it wouldn't work for me. I'd never had a strong sense of smell."

Alex's eyes are softening, just a bit. Something is pushing at his mind, a voice that's trying to remind him that this woman is his mother. She loved him, sheltered him, KICKED HIM OUT INTO THE COLD WORLD—he reminds himself quickly. And once again his eyes turn cold as ice.

"And then I…I married your father and I had you, Alex. I knew you by your scent within thirty minutes, it comforted me. I used to just sit in bed and breathe you in, you smelled like cinnamon. And it didn't matter what shampoo or body wash I used…when I held you close to me when you were six months, two years, seven…after you'd have a nightmare or simply…loved me enough to want to be held by me…I would breathe you in, Alex."

She scoots her chair closer. She moves closer to him, stops…swallows nervously…and keeps going until her nose brushes against his sandy hair. He opens his mouth to tell her to bugger off, but she speaks before he can. "You still smell like cinnamon" she breathes him again and he can feel her tears against his skin as they fall one by one. And for once he isn't annoyed by her crying, because she's not wailing loudly. This is woman who is falling apart, who loved her son and tried her hardest to be good parent. And he's hurt her, Alex knows this.

If he feels guilty about anything—with or without the Ludivico nightmare—it's breaking his mother's heart.

"When you were gone…I would lay on your bed and…sniff your pillow. Pretending that…I could still smell you; I was so angry…at you. I was so very angry and…confused and shocked…hurt. Everyone kept telling me how sorry they were…that you turned out the way you did. But they don't…they don't know, you weren't always a delinquent or criminal…you were…you were my baby, once. And you loved me, and you wanted me to hold you…and now you...you don't even look at me the same…you haven't since you were thirteen."

She's sitting down again, "I love you, Alex…I've never stopped. Sometimes…I wish could stop. And you know what? I remember, you could be such a little brat…oh, by the time you reached thirteen…that's when you started rebelling. You were still respectful to us but you'd come home with notes from your teachers…phone calls saying you hadn't shown up to school. I would so mad at you, But then…then I'd breathe in that scent and…you weren't some problem child with behavior that foreshadowed something more sinister like everyone says now…you were my baby again."

His mother stands up, "I can't bear the scent of cinnamon anymore. It only reminds me…that I failed motherhood. Well um…they said I only had thirty minutes. Time's up. Goodbye, love"

She walks out, and Alex feels the words he wants to say crawling up his throat but his mouth won't open. _I love you too, mum._

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_**Please, Please, Please Review!**_

_**Tell me what you think :) I'm having a blast writing these one-shots.**_


	2. Lovely to Meet You

**Lovely to Meet You**

Summary: Alexander Burgess meets Alexander Delarge for the first time. One Shot.

Sister, I'm not much a poet, but a criminal  
And you never had a chance  
Love it, or leave it, you can't understand  
A pretty face, but you do so carry on

I wouldn't front the scene if you paid me  
I'm just the way that the doctor made me

Love is the red the rose on your coffin door  
What's life like, bleeding on the floor?

Preach all you want but who's gonna save me?  
I keep a gun on the book you gave me, hallelujah, lock and load  
Black is the kiss, the touch of the serpent son  
It ain't the mark or the scar that makes you run

-_**Thanks for the Venom, MCR**_

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A thirteen year old boy named Alexander Burgess stands completely still, his spine tight and his hands clenched with the rush that spreads through his entire body. His hands are stained with blood, the blood of a ten year old girl who was too weak to stop him. He punched the younger girl so hard her lip split open; his friends had dared him to. Georgie said that his father told him that real men hit women, and Alex wanted to prove that he was a real man. He'd felt horrible in the moments prior, but when her lip had split and she'd screamed and the blood flowed with her heavy tears…something happened.

It felt real…_horrorshow_.

What was meant to be a punch turned into three more punches, and then Dim had his bike chain out and the girl was screaming so loud, and to young Alex it was an absolutely gorgeous sound. The girl was all bruised and whimpering, when Alex told her if she said anything they'd do worse to her. She ran away, crying her eyes out and limping from a nasty leg injury.

Now Alex was painfully aware of a tightening sensation in his pants, _an erection_—Georgie told him once, reading from a dirty book they'd stolen from the public biblio. Her blood is still on his hands as he walks home, his parents are not home. Thirteen year old Alex walks into his bedroom and faces the mirror, he cannot recognize himself. His eyes seem suddenly darker, euphoria pounds through him.

His mother sometimes uses his mirror before she goes out, and tonight she has left her fake eyelashes. Alex takes one, just one and puts it on. And this one little detail suddenly changes him completely. This new Alex smirks dangerously at his reflection. He puts on his favorite black bowler hat and tilts it just so, putting emphasis on his dramatic new look. The blood is dry and he misses the sticky wetness of it, so he decides to go out tomorrow night and do it again.

Alex lies down on his bed and closes his eyes, feeling the artificial brush of the lashes against his skin. This belongs to him, and he feels reborn. A caged bird spreading its wings, He reaches down into his trousers and he can hear every shriek of pain, every scream of agony as his fist collided with her soft flesh. He sees her face, twisted and suffering. Alex groans as he bursts, coming down from his cloud slowly as the images and sounds leave him.

He looks into the mirror again, still wearing his school clothes. It just doesn't feel right, now does it? Alex strips completely naked, save for his white underwear. He pulls on white trousers, a white button up shirt, and white suspenders. A makeshift outfit that seems suddenly perfect, an innocent color for a not so innocent boy. He appreciates the irony of it, really.

And the hat just sets the whole thing off, real real horrorshow indeed. He grins at his reflection, a smile that would make even Billy Boy wet his pants in terror.

"Alexander _Delarge_, what a pleasure to meet you"

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**Please Review**


	3. Fresh Meat

**Fresh Meat**

Summary: Alex takes advantage of a young girl's crush on him. One Shot; Sad/Dark!

Thanks to my viewers and especially to DemonBarber14

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And who do you think you are

Running around leaving scars

Collecting your jar of hearts

And tearing love apart

You're going to catch a cold

From the ice inside your soul

**-Christina Perri; Jar of Hearts**

**Lucinda**

_How is it possible? How could anyone be that beautiful? Just look at him, those ocean blue eyes…that sexy bad boy smirk…those chiseled features…he was sculpted by angels! That is the only explanation, there's no way a human could be as gorgeous as him. Oh my GOD! He's looking at me, what do I do?! He's coming towards me, breathe Lucinda! BREATHE!_

"Good evening, little sister! What brings a sladkly like devotchka like you to the Korova?" Alexander Delarge asked the young woman, using his most gentlemanly voice. **Fresh meat**, he thought. "Well my um…m-my friend told me about it and I-I um…I was j-just curious that's all. I don't um…I mean I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do…the s-statues are kind of unsettling…I mean I don't even l-like to see myself naked…"

_Shut up Lucinda! Shut you stupid mouth right now!_

Alex grinned when she slapped her hands over her mouth, blushing scarlet. "I'm sure you look horrorshow without any platties covering your plot, love" his words only made her blush harder, Alex pulled her up to her feet and wrapped his arm around her waist. She thought she might faint. He smelled so good, and she felt as if she was in heaven. He guided her over to one of naked women dispensers and grabbed a cup. Lucinda felt him move behind her, and her heart started pounding.

His breath was warm against her neck, "You see these buttons…are you slooshying to Uncle Alex, little girl?" he asked, and she realized that she'd been staring into his eyes; unable to comprehend or understand anything else. "Oh, I'm sorry! I d-didn't mean to be so rude" Alex chuckled, running the back of his hand up and down her spine; it was the most intimately she'd been touched by a boy.

She ended up getting pure moloko, but Alex invited her to sit with him and his droogs. Somehow she ended up sitting on his lap, with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder, but he was a perfect gentleman and didn't do anything out of line. Then she felt his fingertips run up and down her arms, and the goose bumps came to life.

"Would thou like to itty off somewhere more private, love?"

For a moment, she almost said no but…oh, he was so gorgeous and he _liked_ her! She was a pretty girl but she'd always kept to herself, and became lost in the crowd. She'd never been this intimate with a boy—no, a man. Her senses seemed incredibly heightened, the lights around her burned brighter and everything went in and out of focus…

**Alex**

He smirked as she pressed her body back against his, her eyelids hooded and her lips curled up in a lazy smile. "Feels good…I feel…Alex, Alex, Alex...oh Alex, I love you! I would do…I would do anything for you, Anything!" she slurred, rolling clumsily in his lap to face him. She kissed his cheek, giggling, and his neck before she stopped. "…my head hurts, Alex"

"That's alright, love, it will pass. Come with Uncle Alex, hear angel trumpets and devil trombones"

"I…(hiccup) I like angels, you're so good Alex…you're so sweet, how come you're so perfect?"

Alex's droogs were trying to stifle their laughter, he grinned at them and picked her up bridal style.

The truth, dear reader is this: In regards to the woman dispensers, there are two silver buttons. The one on the right releases pure moloko, and the one on the left; obviously; releases milk-plus—and when Alex showed innocent Lucinda how to work the machine, he took advantage of her ignorance and without her knowledge or consent gave her the milk plus instead of the pure one he'd assured her.

Lucinda was lost in la-la land now, going on and on about how "sweet" and "perfect" he was to her, hiccupping and giggling and nuzzling up to him all playful-like. She was light, and he carried her two blocks to his own home. Pee and Em were off at some sophisto's din din party as it were, so Alexander the Large had at least three hours or more to filly with sladkly little…wait, what was her name?

Who cares?

He laid her down on his bed, and smirked as she stretched like a cat. A gloopy smile on her face and her eyes still hooded, Alex laid himself on top of her. And she was still giggling away, so he stopped that by pressing his lips against hers. Her first kiss, he figured. He trailed his open mouth kisses along her jawline, nipping at the soft flesh and smirking when she'd whimper and arch into him. Her already sensitive and innocent body made more sensitive by the milk plus, she was unaware was coursing through her veins.

But she was starting to come out of the land, no matter. Her mind was clearing but her body was still a prisoner. Her voice was all hoarse now, filled with confusion—like she couldn't remember how to be angry or spoogly, only confused. "What?...what's happening?...Alex…" he hushed her, and started to unbutton her blouse. Watching as her brows knitted, un-knitted, and knitted again. "I don't want…my head..Alex what's happening…"

**Lucinda**

She was trying to figure it all out, her head was pounding and everything was coming back into focus. She felt so sluggish and confused and now, now she was starting to get scared. There was something heavy on top of her, and she couldn't breathe properly. Something registered in her mind, Alex. This was Alex on top of her, and she liked him so…this wasn't rape, right?

Lucinda was trying to figure out how to tell him to slow down, to stop, that she wasn't ready but she couldn't figure out how to open her mouth and her head was pounding and she could barely remember what country she was in. It wasn't until he was pushing himself into her that she was able to let out a scream of pain; and his hand was crushing her mouth at once. Everything exploded into focus and—good God in heaven, this **hurt**. And he was heavy and she didn't want to be here anymore.

_No! Stop it! I don't want to! Get off of me!_

She couldn't spit any of this out, his hand was too strong. And then it was all over, he removed his hand. She was whimpering, tears spilling rapidly from her eyes. Her whole body was shaking, but especially her legs, her body still shocked not only from the unexpected intrusion, but from the violence. She'd never even had the chance to say no, and this confused her to no end. How could she say this was rape, if she'd never said no? Wasn't that rape was? No means No and all that?

Sure she'd screamed and cried but, she'd come here willingly with him…or had she? She couldn't really recall that well, everything was blurred. Maybe this is just what sex was like, maybe there was something wrong with her body. Never the less, Lucinda couldn't help but curl up on the bed and cry. Her body hurt so badly, and she felt the claws of shame gripping her now.

Alex was already dressed, standing over her still naked and bruised body. He made a mental note to change his bed sheets, although the stain of her blood was most pleasing. He opened a drawer and found shorts, fresh underwear, and a light green t-shirt; all girls' clothes. He wasn't stupid, he'd done this plenty of time to know it best his victim (willing or not) have fresh clothes.

Lucinda allowed him to put these clothes on her, not having the physical or emotional energy to do anything about it. And then he was pulling her up off the bed, "It was horroshow fillying around with you, darling. Itty off now, right right?" when she didn't move, Alex rolled his eyes and gripped the back of her neck; "guiding" her out of his bedroom, down the hall and to the front door.

Without a word he pushed her out and slammed the door shut. And Lucinda walked home on trembling legs, tears running down her face.

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	4. Goodbye to Sunshine

**Goodbye to Sunshine**

Summary: He wasn't always a monster.

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All things truly wicked start from innocence~**Ernest Hemingway**

_**1958 {Age 5-6}**_

"_Alex, darling, it's time to go"_

"_But maaaamaaa! I don't want to go to her stupid party!"_

"_Well why not?" His mother was on her knees, buttoning up his jacket and using her handkerchief to wipe away dirt from his nose. Fussing in a way that only a mother can fuss over her child; the little boy's brows are knitted, a frown tugging at his face because, really, it should be obvious. Young Alex doesn't want to go to Sophie's stupid birthday party because; "Because she's a girl, mama!"_

"_You don't like girls?" _

"_They're gross, they have cooties…Dim said so!"_

"_Ah, but I'm a girl. Don't you like me, darling?"_

"_I love you mama! You're not a girl, not really"_

_His mother laughed, knowing he was too young to realize he was contradicting himself. But this was not a war to be won for Alexander Burgess and within the hour was sitting at a pink table (gross!) surrounded by other girls and boys. The only good thing was the cake, but wait…something happened. Sophie smiled at him and he felt all warm. Alex realized it must have been a side effect of the cootie epidemic, currenly plaguing the nation of kindergarten._

"_Hi Alex" She said, smiling and he could see a gap there were the tooth had fallen out. She'd been wiggling it with her tongue this past week and everyone (including Alex) kept asking her to do it. Now it had fallen out, "Did the tooth fairy come?" he asked, quite forgetting that she was disease ridden and gross (because she was a girl) "Uh-Huh, she brought me two quarters!" the two children went on to discuss their amazement at such generosity and she invited him to look at her books. So they went up to her room._

_By the time they were going home, Alex figured that maybe girls weren't so horrible. At least not Sophie, in fact she was kind've cool. She liked dragons like he did, and her favorite color was blue like his! She had soft hair and a nice sounding voice, so they decided to marry each other. He didn't really know how to go about it so he simply asked her, "We should get married, because…we like each other and our favorite color is the same. So, do you want to be married?" and Sophie had said yes._

_Their wedding was splendid. She wore a grape-juice stained white Easter dress and he wore his school uniform, their wedding guests were his and her plush toys and animals. Their rings were those twisty-ties found on bread packages. Instead of kissing, which was really icky, they shook hands._

_**1971 {Age 17-18}**_

Alex slammed his cane with vicious and brute strength down onto the man's knuckles as Pete and Georgie held onto him, Dim laughing away nearby. The man screamed as the force of the blows caused the skin on his knuckles to literally split apart, and Alex kept on slamming his weapon down until the man's hands were swelling rapidly and he was pissing himself from terror and physical agony. "How disgusting. Do you viddy this my brothers? He's gone and soiled himself!" he sneered meanly, taking a few more swings before switching to the man's face.

Growing tired of him, Alex snapped his fingers and Georgie pushed him into the waters. He would live. The foursome ventured back to his car, and about three miles of driving later came across a young devotchka all crying because she'd just been dumped by her beloved beau. She was thirteen years old, his droogs watched as Alex comforted her like a true gentleman would, only to lure her behind an abandoned building and rape her. When a sharp whistle came, the other boys knew it was their turn.

Yes, the night was full of girls bleeding between their shaking legs, all bruised and crying in pain and for him to stop. And there were men groaning as his boot smashed their noses and shattered their teeth. One of them was wearing a light blue shirt, and something flashed across his mind—briefly, oh so very briefly.

"_What's your favorite color?"_

"_Blue"_

"_You can't like that color, it's mine"_

"_Yes I can!"_

"_Nuh-Uh, it's a boy color!"_

"_MOMMMMY! ALEX SAYS I CAN'T LIKE BLUE!"_

There is not time to dwell on this memory, the police are coming. They let go of the three young boys, each of who lipped off at Uncle Alex so it was only proper he teach them their manners; yes? And as usual, they get away—not before Alex breaks one of the boy's fingers for good measure.

Later, slooshying to his beloved Ludwig Van…her face, plump and sweet framed by wild brunette curls decorated by dry leaves from their playing in the leaf piles happily, flashed behind his closed glazzies. Sophie.

But her face was suffocated out by images of people bleeding, screaming, begging him for mercy and that innocence and sweetness was forgotten. So much so, that it might as well have never existed.

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_**Please Review**_


	5. Gentleman

**Gentleman**

Summary: Alex always holds the door open.

AN: Demonbarber14—**Thank You for your support and wonderful insight**; I enjoy discussing this book/film with you tremendously at this moment, I confess that I am too lazy to read Chapter 21 (I'm sorry!) but I will definitely get back to you on that subject, it's just that at this moment I don't think I could process the information and make an **educated** opinion on it. It's just one of those days, ya know? Where I'm just like; I…liked it or I…did not like it.

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He was whistling a bit from the lovely, lovely Ludwig Van's Moonlight Sonata under his breath and swinging his cane in a nonchalant, lazy fashion. His fashion today was not his white clothes and his signature eye lash, but a long purple coat with a white snake skin textured collar and black buttons. He was on his way to Melodia; the wonderful warble store with a gloopy name. He had no particular reason to go there, for his order would not be in for another two weeks, but perhaps he would find some pretty devotchka to take home with him and give the ol' in-out, in-out real savage.

Whether she was willing or not did not interest him, and to be honest with you; he sometimes preferred she wasn't. It was after all, real horrorshow to see them writhe and squirm in like pain, creeching to him to _please stop _while he plunged all violently into their shaky bodies and made them bleed. Alex groaned under his breath, an image of a recent girl springing to mind. Oh, she'd screamed real lovely.

Alex put them under categories; there were the girls who fought like hell cats and cussed at him, screamed about how they would report him, there were girls who became frozen in terror and didn't even beg him to stop; too scared and confused to understand what horror was being done to them, and then there was his favorite. The girls who whimpered, pleaded, and then screamed as their innocence was taken from them. Virgins were a special, special treat for Alex. He always made sure that it hurt them, he never gave their bodies a chance to cope with his size or the strength of his thrusts.

When they screamed, Alex _felt _like he was **powerful**.

Sometimes he liked to force their bodies to feel the pleasure their minds didn't want to feel, he knew how to bring even the most unwilling victims to orgasms that made them feel ashamed, confused, and almost afraid of their own bodies. He liked to whisper into the girls' ear; "You like when Uncle Alex touches like this, don't you?" and he'd smirk as she sobbed "No, No, No! Stop it, please stop" as her body betrayed her and bucked against his fingers or his mouth, whatever it might be.

When they screamed, Alex _knew_ he was **powerful**.

Alex had reached Melodia now, and also approaching it was a very pretty devotchka; somewhere around thirteen or fourteen years of age, with wavy chestnut hair and a smoothie in her hand. Alex reached the door before she did and opened it wide for her, nodding his head to her in polite greeting. The girl smiled and said thank you, her lips stained smoothie red.

Alex **always** held the door open.

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Please Review ^.^


	6. Wayward Flowers

**Wayward Flowers**

Summary: Georgie Boy is dead, Alex visits his grave

Thanks again a thousand times to DemonBarber14, never stop being fabulous alright? ;D

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_Georgie Boy was a traitor, a stinking filthy traitor_

The cemetery is cold, and this fact makes Alex give a laugh so hoarse it cannot be heard in the freezing mid-winter air around him. Of course the cemetery is cold, he can't remember a time when they weren't cold. And he wonders if this was simply because the only time he visited here with his mum and pee was on Thankgiving to visit mum's dad; who apparently loved the holiday and who Alex had never met.

Or maybe it was because of all the dead people.

And here in front of him, was the stinking filthy traitor himself. Alex's father had told him, three months ago and Alex didn't go to his funeral, he didn't want to. He wasn't sad, a bit surprised—after all, Georgie Boy was always a healthy chelloveck; if anything he would have thought it Dim six feet under. Georgie Boy's tombstone is not extremely fancy or carved by like Michelangelo or some other wonderful artist .

There were some dried up flowers on his grave, pushed down by a bullying wind.

Alex heard the crinch-crunch of leaves under like ballerina feet and looked back at her without turning around, she was a devotchka two years younger than he and a frequent visitor of the public biblio, he couldn't remember her name at this moment. "He was young" she commented, after reading his birth and death date. Alex didn't say anything, his brow furrowed.

_Georgie Boy was a traitor, a stinking filthy traitor_

Alex had not cried, not even felt that breathless and numb like feeling of sadness or regret when his father told him about Georgie Boy being dead. And even now he felt empty, not happy or prideful that he had lasted longer; just empty and…

No. Not sad, not regretful. _Georgie Boy was a traitor, a stinking filthy traitor_

"What school d'you suppose he went to? He's around our age, maybe he went to school with us"

His mouth is moving without his brain's consent, "St. Maxwells, we went together"

"…He was a friend of yours?"

_Georgie Boy was a traitor, a stinking filthy traitor_

"Sure, you could say that"

Ballerina-Devotchka slips her hand into his, her hand is warm. Alex doesn't even look at her and his mind only vaguely registers his own hand squeezing hers—not to frighten or break her fingers—almost pleadingly. "I'm sorry" she says, slipping her hand away and leaving him. He almost turns around to ask what her name is but he doesn't, it's as simple as that really.

_Georgie Boy was a traitor, a stinking filthy traitor_

Alex picks up the fallen flowers and sets them right again. It's not because he's bothered by nature's lack of respect for his lost brother, it's because he is a perfectionist. As he walks away, Alex's eyes water and he blinks back tears refusing to let them fall.

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	7. Basil the Traitor

**Basil the Traitor**

Summary: Alex torments a classmate with his snake but things don't end like he expected. Humor! Mostly dialogue only; taking a break from the darker one shots and delving into the funny :D

As always a special thanks to DemonBarber14, you are the wind beneath my wings *cue cheesy inspirational music*

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"What the hell is **_that_**?!"

"His name is Basil"

"…is he mean?"

"There's only one way to find out"

"….DON'T PUT IT AROUND MY NECK!

ALEX, **_DAMN YOU_**! GET HIM OFF!"

"**_Calm down_** Rose, you're **_scaring_** him"

"**_I'm_** scaring **_him_**?! Alex **_please_**, get him off!"

"Oh see I **_would_**, but…I don't **_want_** to"

"We're supposed to be studying NOT **_traumatizing_** me!"

"It's okay, everything will alright sweetheart"

"Well at least you're starting to show me **_some_** compassion"

"I was talking to **_Basil_**"

"I **_hate_** you Alex, I hate you **_more_** than I hate **_mushrooms_**"

"Are you relaxed yet?"

"…Yes actually"

"How does he feel?"

"Soft…warm, um…smooth I guess. He's sort of **_cute_** actually

In a creepy, **_evil_** sort of way…sort of like you"

"That's why you're my girlfriend"

"I'm not your **_girlfriend_** Alex, stop telling everybody that"

"…No"

"Whatever. Basil is cuter anyway"

"Give me back my snake you blasted soomka"

"No, he's **_my_** new love. Come on Basil, let us leave this

Horrible, horrible boy behind"

Basil wraps himself gently around her shoulders, turning away from Alex.

"Basil, you **_traitor!_**"

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Sorry this one was kind of stupid, it's meant to be more light and funny :D

And it's also inspired by real life in a way, I wore a snake today (it was a real beauty even if it did scare me xD and I remembered that Alex has a pet snake too so…this was born!)


	8. Letters to the Devil

**Letters to the Devil**

Summary: A victim writes a letter to Alex…

As per usual a big hug and thank you to DemonBarber14, I seriously just re-read the reviews you leave throughout the day to boost my self confidence xD

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_Makes me that much stronger_  
_Makes me work a little bit harder_  
_It makes me that much wiser_  
_So thanks for making me a fighter_

_Made me learn a little bit faster_  
_Made my skin a little bit thicker_  
_Makes me that much smarter_  
_So thanks for making me a fighter_

_I heard you're going round playing the victim now_  
_But don't even begin feeling I'm the one to blame_  
_'Cause you dug your own grave_

-Christina A.: Fighter

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Alex,

What is your definition of the word "rape"? Do you understand the pain it causes the victim? Do you understand the emotional agony that lasts years even after the bruises have completely faded away? Do you understand the fear and the humiliation and anger and the pain? Do you understand the self-loathing and the tainted view of the world and the complete mistrust of people you once loved dearly? After you raped me I wouldn't even let my own father hug me, does that make you smile Alex?

Does it make you feel like a real man?

You murdered me Alex. You murdered my spirit, my heart, my very essence of being. I will never be the bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl I once was. What kind of a person are you, Alex? Please, I'm truly curious. What kind of a person forces himself on a girl while she's screaming and crying and fighting? Are you that pathetic that you have to force yourself on somebody to get some action?

You disgusting, loathsome hideous monster

You were my first. You liked that Alex, didn't you? You got to make me bleed. That night was a night of complete and utter filth, and despite your crude remarks I did not enjoy it. I would have rather stuck my face in a vat of acid than have sex with you. I was not turned on, I was scared and angry and confused and you hurt me. You hurt me really bad. Does that make you smile?

You smiled after you raped me, I remember it clearly.

I am only writing this because I heard you tried to commit suicide. I read that you did it because of the Ludivico Technique; they described it in detail. And you know what? I grin from ear to ear when I think about you becoming so violently ill that it's physically excruciating, do you understand these words you sick monster? I could jump for joy hearing about you feeling nauseas at the sound of your beloved Beethoven, something beautiful for you was twisted and turned into something terrifying.

So mull over this, you ripped something from me that was pure and good…something I wanted to share with someone who loved me, you raped me Alex. You twisted what should have been a beautiful experience into an hour of emotional horror and physical agony. And I wasn't the first or last one. Your victims are starting to come out Alex, and good God is it sickening to see.

Marty and Sonietta were only _ten years old_

Really, you sick bastard? Really?

There's Hannah, Jamie, Lucinda, and Natalie just to name a few and then there's me; Penelope. Did you know my name? Did you know any of these girls names? Did you know that Jamie dreams of dedicating her life to helping protect animals on the endangered species list? Or that Hannah is the top of her class at a performing arts school? Lucinda has won first place in the Young Author's Awards for the last two years. And Natalie isn't sure what she's doing but she's smiling, not fake smiling to hide her pain Alex, she's remembering how to feel good again.

It takes a long, long time. Learning how to love yourself again, to let other people love you; I never thought the nightmares would stop but they did. I am stronger. I'm engaged to a wonderful man, a real man. And when I kiss him, I do not see you or feel you crushing me or hear your horrible voice. I laugh now, I smile, I walk with a bounce in my step. The pain has never gone away, it still embedded deep within me. Something it is dormant, sometimes it is overwhelming. But my Ethan is always there to chase those shadows away, or to at least hold me until they pass.

These girls you so viciously violated, tainted, and hurt in the most horrific way…they are all intelligent, bright, happy girls now—we survived, Alex. And not only that, we thrived…you told me I was a weak little girl…but tell me, who is broken and bloody in a hospital? It sure as hell isn't me. So, allow me to tell you in the nicest most polite way I possibly can…You can suck it, Alex.

-Penelope

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	9. I Don't Know You, Not Anymore

**I Don't Know You, Not Anymore**

Summary: The moment Pete sees Alex for the monster he truly is.

Thank You DemonBarber14 and ElektraMackenzie

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_There was really no harm in it, really no harm._ Pete's laughter was forced as usual, as he kicked the drunkie that they'd targeted (and by "they" I mean Alex) on this particular night. He was getting bored of all of this but wasn't ready or quite willing to pull away from his friends; especially not Alex. Pete was drawn to the older boy like a moth to a flame, he was everything Pete wished he could be.

While Pete was awkward, Alex was confident, Pete was a natural born follower and Alex a natural born leader, Alex was cultured and sophisticated and handsome and—oh you get the picture. Pete was just…_Pete_. He wasn't the smartest or most cultured or most charming, he couldn't compete with Alexander Delarge. The man was simply untouchable.

But there was something dark inside of him. Pete, Georgie, and Dim all knew this but they only saw the _surface_. They didn't masturbate late at night thinking about cutting into people's faces and raping young helpless girls on walls. No, they were not nearly as sick as Alex. And he was supposed to be the perfect one, the boy who could do no wrong. That was until a fateful night, sometime in March or maybe April—the horror of this night blurred the facts for Pete.

This night was just he and Alex, and Pete was excited. He looked up to Alex so much, and loved him dearly. Alex was the big brother he'd never had, and Pete often felt like the typical baby brother who wanted nothing more than to always be with his cool big brother. Alex liked to beat up people but—Pete reasoned—the bruises and broken bones _would_ heal.

It was dark outside, the stars blurred out by the bright streetlamps. A group of girls was heading towards them. A young woman, beautiful but unaware of her surroundings; Pete figured Alex would charm her like he did so many times before and take her back to the house while Pete read a book in the study and tried to ignore the sound of Alex's bed frame hitting the wall; the girl's screams (Of pleasure…of pain? It was hard to tell over the sound of Alex's classical music blasting through the walls)

Pete always kept himself tucked away in the study, he remembered the first time he saw one of those girls coming out of Alex's room. All bruised and crying, barely able to walk on her trembling legs and that look in her eyes as she looked at him, as if begging him to take all her pain away. Pete didn't want to believe that the person he looked up to would so something so…incredibly evil.

It was easier to just not look at it, for if you can't _see_ it, it doesn't really _exist_ right?

"Hello, Hello, Hello there little sister, and brings you out here on this fine nochy all on your oddy knocky? Are thou lost in the frightening darkness and in need of guidance?"

"No I'm not, I was just taking a stroll. I'm on my way home, it was nice meeting you…both of you. Have a nice night" the girl said in a polite but firm voice, and tried to move past Alex. But when she'd go right so would Alex, when she'd go left Alex would follow. "That is really quite immature, now isn't it? How old are you?" she scolded him, but Pete could see she was starting to get a bit poogly.

And so was Pete; there a heavy darkness surrounding Alex and it made him shiver in fear. Alex's eyes were blazing with something demonic and for the first time Pete couldn't deny that Alex was going to do something dreadfully horrible now, Pete couldn't look away. Alex lunged at the girl, who was a foot shorter than he, her scream of fright and surprise muffled by his crushing hand.

Pete couldn't look away; he couldn't close his eyes or deny any of it.

"Pete-y boy! Come along, come join your brother for a night of ultra-violence at its most horrorshow" the girl was struggling hard against Alex, Pete followed him as he dragged the girl—kicking and screaming—into the shadows. Alex had the ability to be incredibly strong when he was angry or excited, and the girl's struggles were nothing to him—they only excited him further.

Pete couldn't look away, he couldn't close his eyes or deny any of it.

"Come on in Pete, come on in! Ah, ah little darling—none of that now" the girl was kicking at his legs, and Pete winced when Alex threw her against the wall, the force left her unable to stop herself from crashing. She did crash, and she crashed _hard_. Her nose shattered as her face slammed into the brick, blood spurting out like a fountain. She collapsed to the floor, onto her stomach. "There now, you just lay there love"

The girl tried to get up but Alex merely chuckled and sat on her, pinning her easily. His hand tangled itself into her strawberry blonde hair and pressed her face into the ground, crushing her already broken nose into the cement and causing her horrible pain. Alex rolled her over onto her back, "Stop fighting me and I'll leave you alone, I promise little girl"

In desperation the girl went slack, she stopped fighting. But Alex didn't get off of her, "That's a good devotchka" he sneered, Pete winced at the sight of her blood covered face, her eyes filling with tears of frustration, confusion, and pain. Alex was touching her now, running his hands all over her body and she was rigid with terror. He kissed her, and because of her broken nose it wasn't the least bit comfortable.

Alex pulled away suddenly with a growl, and Pete realized she must have bit him. He backhanded her so hard that Pete could see that she'd lost consciousness. But Alex wasn't going to do anything too horrible right? He was just roughing her up and then he'd stop, Pete was hoping that he would stop soon. This was too horrible, too evil, and he didn't want to be here anymore.

The girl started fighting again, now that she'd realized that Alex wasn't going to let her go or stop. She clawed at him and kicked her legs but he pinned her wrists down and crushed her hips with his own, disabling her movements with his frightening strength.

Pete couldn't look away, he couldn't close his eyes or deny any of it.

Alex ripped her clothes. The girl shrieked and cried and fought, while he crushed her body with his own and laughed at her agony. Pete closed his eyes, "Open your glazzies, Pete-y boy and watch" Alex commanded, and Pete obeyed him. The girl was digging her heels into the cement in an attempt to get away but only succeeded in ripping the skin open. It didn't matter how much she fought, Alex was stronger.

And then he was inside of her, and her blood curdling scream sent shivers down Pete's spine. Alex was driving his hips into hers with violent and ruthless force, his hand crushed her to the cement by her throat, his other hand on her hip, fingernails ripping into the soft flesh as he violated her. And she was _screaming_.

Pete couldn't look away, he couldn't close his eyes or deny any of it.

Alex looked up and their eyes locked. Alex smiled slowly, and he looked demonic in the shadows with a screaming girl beneath him, he pushed her ripped skirt up further so that Pete could see his penis moving violently inside of her, a sickening and frightening sight. There was so much blood, the girl was clawing his forearms and she managed to tear skin, Alex growled and without warning twisted the girl's arm so hard the bones snapped.

Finally, Alex came. He pulled out and wiped his semen and her blood off on her skirt, standing up and tucking himself away. "Come along brother, the night is still young"

Pete looked back at her, still sprawled on the ground all bruised and bloody with her shattered nose and broken soul. The anger that spread through him felt like some horrible disease but he turned away…

It was easier to just not look at it, for if you can't _see_ it, it doesn't really _exist_ right?

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